


do you want to be a member?

by sleeplessmiles



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Missing Scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3582156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessmiles/pseuds/sleeplessmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After discovering that they're both being intentionally kept out of the loop, Jemma and Lance form an unlikely friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. those days are gone

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been a massive fan of the potential for a sibling-type relationship between these two, and then 2b began and put the two of them into an even more similar position than before. Which is how this happened. Basically, this starts off as simply missing scenes from the episodes, but it will eventually diverge from canon.
> 
> (Also, the title comes from Marina's 'Lonely Hearts Club' because, well. That's essentially what this is.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!

 

It’s well beyond midnight by the time Jemma decides to venture out of her room, finally able to brave the prospect of running into other people. Not that she really expects anyone to be awake at this hour – not anymore, not when they spend their days in a state of grief-stricken exhaustion – but she’d still rather minimise the risk.

That’s why she’d been hidden away in her room for the better part of the evening, after making her discovery earlier. She didn’t think she’d be able to look Skye or Fitz in the eye, knowing that they were lying to her face. She didn’t think she could stand there without recoiling in pain, every untruth striking her like a physical blow.

(That, and the fact that she’s suddenly incapable of holding back her tears. It’s as though this has broken something in her – this, of all the heartbreaks and betrayals they’d endured. The two people Jemma Simmons loves more than anyone else in the entire world don’t trust her, and it’s what has finally ruined her.

She doesn’t know where to even begin picking up the pieces. She isn’t sure she can.

She’s just undone.)

Despite taking the necessary precautions, however, she’s at the counter preparing herself the strongest drink she can manage when she discovers she’s not the only one burning the midnight oil.

‘You,’ Lance announces significantly from across the room. Jemma startles, almost dropping the bottle in her hands. ‘Look like utter crap.’

Recovering as much as possible, she turns around and locates him, tucked away in an armchair in the corner of the room and sipping neatly at a drink. She narrows her eyes at him a little, but there isn’t much bite in the expression. She’s too drained and emotionally wrung out to achieve that right now.

‘You really know how to charm the ladies, Lance,’ Jemma tries.

He smiles a little, a wry twist of his lips, before sitting up in his seat. ‘Seriously, though.’

Deliberating only briefly (because, despite everything, she’d still prefer  _anybody’s_  company to the stark loneliness of her bunk), Jemma finishes fixing her drink and walks over to seat herself next to him. They sit there, simply coexisting in silence, for the longest time – Lance regarding her critically, Jemma staring resolutely at the bottom of her glass – before he finally speaks again.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, voice gentle. Jemma purses her lips in a desperate attempt to control her emotions, inhaling heavily through her nose.

‘Skye and Fitz are keeping something from me,’ she murmurs, voice dipping in and out of a whisper. She frowns determinedly at the ground, refusing to allow any more tears to escape. 

(She’s mourned for too long, now.)

‘I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s really big.’

Lance is quiet for an incredibly long time, so she eventually glances across at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. Unnervingly, he doesn’t look at all surprised; only sad. Deeply, deeply, sad.

‘What is it?’ she asks, dread creeping into the edges of her voice. He only raises his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair once more.

‘All I can say is: join the club.’

Jemma frowns. ‘Skye and Fitz are –?’

‘ –  _No_ , not them.’ He huffs out a dejected breath, taking a gulp of whiskey before clarifying. ‘Bobbi and Mack.’

Jemma can feel it break across her face, can feel it settle into her bones as though she’s been sucker punched.

_Not them too._

‘God,’ she breathes, at a loss. Her voice crackles unsteadily, but it’s still a more whole entity than this team has become. She wants to sink to her knees in defeat.

‘That doesn’t leave this room, though,’ Lance warns.

They stare at each other, then – faces stricken, the two of them alone in this truth that  _they’re all lying to us_  and yet in it together. They’re in this together, Jemma realises. Jemma Simmons and Lance Hunter.

God.

It’s that bad.

She takes a long drink.

‘You know,’ Lance begins tentatively. His voice is conspiratorial, and much too jovial. Jemma appreciates the effort. ‘ _We_  should start keeping secrets from the rest of them. You and me.’

She snorts, a clumsy, bitter sound falling from her lips. ‘Because what we desperately need around here right now is  _more_  secrets.’

‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ he sighs. He takes another sip, apparently reconsidering. ‘We’d have a bit of fun with it, though.’

She can only manage a sad half-smile in response, however, so Lance gives up any attempts at levity.

It’s a long time before she musters the courage to put words to the sick feeling churning within her.

(But she does. If there’s one thing Jemma Simmons can do, it’s ill-advised, plucky courage.)

‘I’m scared,’ she whispers into the stillness of the room, and it feels like a concession. An admittance of defeat. Lance looks at her steadily, allowing her to see the rare cracks in his mask of impassivity, before looking away.

‘Me too,’ he admits, voice gravelly.

They don’t talk again after that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from 'Days are Gone' by Haim.


	2. and if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has an idea about how he and Jemma should react to their closest friends keeping secrets from them. Despite herself, Jemma’s intrigued.

 

It’s not actually uncommon for Jemma to come up and work in the break room, these days.

The new lab is… it’s fine, truthfully. There’s nothing openly wrong with it. It had been a shock, at first, to share a space with other people after working with only Fitz by her side for so long. But then she’d gone to Hydra, and was forced to work not only with other people, but with other people who would dob her in if her cover slipped for so much as a second. So coming back into this lab had been a relief, more than anything.

Even so, there are certain sounds she’s come to associate with her space for science. A certain someone making certain sounds. Despite all the new noises, the hustle and bustle of activity, she can’t help but feel the loss of those familiar noises like a gaping wound in her chest. There’s a hollow silence in the cacophony, and she isn’t quite sure how to handle that.

So she seeks out other spaces.

(Of course, there’s also the fact that her duties encompass far more than simple experimentation and analysis nowadays, what with her rebuilding of the Sci-Tech division. Sometimes she just needs some room to think, and she can’t really get that in a lively lab environment.)

She’s in the break room working through an absolute nightmare of a logistical issue, various papers and tablets spread out across the couch, when Lance pokes his head through the doorway.

‘Hey,’ he begins, drawing the word out expectantly. He steps into the room. ‘I’ve just had a  _really_  stupid idea.’

She blinks across at him, curving her lips into a slow, pleased smile.

‘I honestly don’t know which joke to make first.’

‘Ha, ha, ha.’ He walks over to her, pokes at her leg with his toe. ‘Seriously. Ask me what it is.’

Marking her place on the page, she looks up at him, long-suffering yet expectant.

‘When was the last time you went home?’ he asks – fairly abruptly, in her opinion.

‘Home?’ she repeats.

Honestly, she hasn’t a clue how to answer that. Where is home to Jemma Simmons now? She can’t very well return to Sheffield, can she; she doesn’t even technically  _exist_ anymore. And for the longest time, she’d thought the Bus was her home, but it’s clearly not.

It’s clearly the people who lived there. Her home was other people.

And now, she isn’t even sure if she’s got  _them_.

She must be silent for too long, because Lance takes pity on her, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

‘England, love. To England.’

_Oh._

‘Don’t call me love,’ she replies absently, almost as a reflex, as her mind wanders. May had offered to accompany her to England just before the Hydra op, but Jemma had refused.

(She didn’t want to inflict herself upon them.)

‘Before… before. Why?’

He just grins. She closes her eyes, pained.

‘Why do I get the feeling this is going to – ’

‘ – because I think we should go. To England.’

She stares at him. When he provides no further explanation, only continuing to grin at her stupidly, she rolls her eyes impatiently.

‘And how do you suggest we do that?’

‘We’ve got planes, don’t we?’ He leans in a little, almost conspiratorial. ‘More specifically, we’ve got a quinjet.’

Her eyebrows shoot right up.

‘You want to steal the quinjet,’ she states flatly, but despite herself, she can feel a smile pulling at her lips.

It’s absurd. The whole thing’s absurd.

They couldn’t.

(But she’s smiling along anyway.)

Lance shrugs, nonchalant. ‘I prefer the term _borrow_  myself.’

‘May will kill you,’ she reasons, mostly just for the sake of being antagonistic. ‘ _Coulson_  will kill you.’

‘Yeah, but that’s why I’m bringing you along, isn’t it?’ He smiles winningly – pleased with his infallible logic, she presumes. ‘They won’t kill me if you do it too.’

‘That’s the only reason?’ she prompts slyly. He rolls his eyes dramatically.

‘If you think I’m going to show any affection towards you, you are sorely mistaken.’

‘Aw,’ Jemma grins. ‘You love me, _love_.’

‘Stop getting offtrack,’ he whines, ‘ _They’re_  the ones keeping stuff from us. Don’t you want to give them something to be pissed off about?’

Jemma looks at Lance then – really looks at him, rather than just glancing across at him dubiously – and notices the darkness at the back of his gaze for the first time. The secrets are weighing just as heavily on him as they are on her, and yet he’s making this concerted, near-manic effort at chasing the shadows away with frivolity.

She purses her lips, contemplating.

‘So. _You’re_  saying, because they kept secrets from us, we should play up like delinquent teenagers?’

‘More or less, yeah.’

She sighs. ‘You were a horrid child, weren’t you.’

‘The very worst,’ he confirms proudly.

Jemma glances down at her tablet, biting her lip and scrolling absently through the page as she thinks.

‘Seems like a bit of a waste of fuel,’ she notes truthfully.

He plonks himself down on the couch next to her, enthused. ‘Oh good, pros and cons. What else have you got?’

She turns to face him, incredulous.

‘Are you being – ?’ He is. He’s being serious. She begins to list things off on her fingers. ‘For starters, there’s the fuel, as I’ve  _just_  stated. Then there’s the fact that it doesn’t belong to us. They’ll most likely need it for serious operations. And honestly, I’m not even certain you know how to pilot the thing, so it’ll most likely be me in the driver’s seat.’

None of this seems to faze him, though. He’s still just grinning back at her ridiculously.

‘What?’ she demands.

‘I know you think you’re listing cons, but all I’m hearing are more reasons to go.’

She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. ‘Logic and reason are just completely lost on you, aren’t they?’

‘What can I say?’ he grins, leaning back comfortably. ‘I live in the moment.’

‘You’ll bloody die in the moment,’ she mutters under her breath.

He prods playfully at her arm. ‘C’mon. I’m serious. Look, what can happen in 24 hours?’

‘Are you joking?’ she cries, voice rising in volume with every word.

 _‘Shhhh!’_  he hisses, laughing.

‘Oh.’ She shifts uncomfortably, narrows her eyes a little. ‘That was a joke, just now.’

He nods, his gaze softening a little. ‘It was worth it, though.’

‘Why?’

‘You! Look at you, smiling away. It’s been too long since we’ve seen that.’

She sighs.

_Yeah._

He’s looking at her expectantly, traces of fondness in his gaze, so she rewards him for his efforts.

(This really has been rather sweet of him, after all.)

‘I thought about it,’ she confides quietly. When he only tilts his head in question, she elaborates. ‘Leaving, I mean.’

‘In the past few days?’

Jemma only twists her lips by way of reply. She’s not proud of it; her instinct is still to stay and fight, to put her back to the wall and lash out against those trying to hurt her loved ones.

But she doesn’t even know who she’s fighting anymore. And she’s just so, so  _exhausted_.

Lance won’t judge her, though – not when he’s clearly been entertaining similar ideas himself. She meets his eyes, tries weakly for an upbeat expression.

‘I have to run the science division. They’re counting on me.’

The look on his face is evaluative, bittersweet. ‘Even though they don’t trust you with their secrets.’

‘I have to believe there’s a reason for that,’ she mutters.

They look at each other then, understanding passing between them, and Jemma finds herself bizarrely grateful that she’s got Lance throughout all of this. She honestly isn’t sure how she’d have dealt with any of this alone.

Luckily, she’ll never have to find out.

He eventually looks away, planting his hands on his thighs and standing up laboriously, sounding a theatrical groan in the process.

‘Alright. Well, you ever feel like pissing off Mum and Dad, just let me know.’

She quirks an eyebrow.

‘So you can take me on a joyride across the Atlantic?’

He smirks, walking backwards out of the room. ‘Rules are made to be broken, princess.’

‘Go do your job,’ Jemma tells him, rolling her eyes.

(There’s a distant smile dancing at her lips for hours.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Birdy's 'People Help the People'

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at 'imperfectlychaotic' where I often write drabbles (and it's often jemmalance stuff) that don't quite make it onto AO3.


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